Trash or Treasure, by Joanne Macias, 'buried treasure' cocktail

Whatever this box held, it was locked up tight.

Prepare a garden bed they said. It would make the kids eat healthier they said. It would save money they said. Did I bank on finding an old chest? Of course not. Did it contain treasure? Who knew. Examining every angle, I couldn’t find a way to open it. If I didn’t try to open it however, it would end up destroying my sanity. Perhaps some aggression could get it open. After a couple of unsuccessful knocks, I realised that the only way to find out what was inside, was to pay someone to open it.

Rushing inside the house, I grabbed the local newspaper, hurriedly flicking through the pages, looking for a locksmith that could come out quickly. I wasn’t sure how long I would be able to wait to see what was inside. 24-hour locksmith – in your area within the hour!  That seemed promising, so I gave them a quick call.

“Good morning, thank you for calling Lucky Locksmiths. Harry speaking.”

“Hi Harry. This may seem like a random request, but I need help opening a box.”

“A box? That shouldn’t be a problem. Was the lock built into the box, or was it a padlock?”

“Built in. It’s like a chest… umm I mean, like a tool chest.”

“No worries. I could be there in about 45 minutes if that works for you?”

“Perfect. I will text you my address as soon as we hang up.”

“Amazing. See you soon.”

It was a close call saying it was a chest. The less people who potentially knew about the potential treasure, the better. Seeing how secure this was, maybe it was filled with gold? A treasure map? Some ancient relics? It wasn’t too heavy, so I didn’t know what to expect once it was opened. 45 minutes. That’s all I had to wait for Harry to arrive. Hopefully sooner.

I just kept thinking about all the things I would be able to spend the money on – fast cars, big houses, extravagant holidays. I just needed the chest opened first.

To avoid getting anxious over the wait, I tried to keep working on the garden bed to pass the time. I repeatedly turned the soil. Added manure and turned it again. Over and over. As I was about to dig the holes to plant all the vegetables, I heard a noise out front. I threw the shovel to the floor, and quickly made my way towards the front of the house, hoping it was who I thought. I stopped at the gate, just so I wasn’t approaching someone randomly, in case it wasn’t the locksmith.  I noticed that it was a middle-aged man, and he was walking towards my house away from his white Ute. There was no signage on the car, so I couldn’t be sure it was in fact the locksmith. He locked eyes with me, continuing to the side gate where I was standing.

“Hi, I’m Harry from Lucky Locksmiths.”

“Oh, hi Harry, I’m Joseph. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“Perfect. Hi Joseph.” He stopped to shake my hand. “You said there was a chest to be opened?”

“Yes, yes. This way.”
I ushered him through the gate and then led him to the small chest resting on the patio. I could hear the clinking of the tools in his tool trolley as he dragged it behind him. I’m sure he sensed my excitement, even though I was trying to hide it.

“Here it is!” as I pointed to the battered chest, its new dents and scratches coming from my failed attempts to pry it open.

“Oh, quite the small chest there.” Harry leant over to pick it up to inspect it closer. “Ooh, that’s kind of heavy.”

Walking over to his tool trolley, chest in hand, Harry began to assess the lock to see if he could determine the best solution to open the chest. Placing the chest on top of the trolley, he then pulled out some spray and some pick locks. One spray, and then he inserted the picks. One quick twist, and then the lid swung open. We both were anxious to see what was inside, and besides the strong smell emanating from the box, we were quickly disappointed with its contents.

As I dug my hand into the chest, there was no treasure to be found, but there was something wrapped in an old shirt. The shirt looked familiar, but before I could inspect it closer, my daughter raced out the back door screaming.

“Dad! What are you doing? Why are you going through my time capsule? That’s private!”

“What? What are talking about Ella?”

“We did time capsules at school, and I thought someone in the future would be able to see what my treasures were.”

“But I thought this was going to be filled with ancient treasures!”

Ella stamped her foot down and crossed her arms. “It was filled with treasure, and it would have been ancient if you just left it!”

Harry began to look uncomfortable at the situation unfolding, but most likely knew the story was going to be great to tell later. He seemed to look around the yard, trying to find a way out, knowing there was only one thing left to do.

“Umm, Joseph? That’s $170 please. Cash or card?”    

About the author

Joanne Macias is a multi-disciplinary creative, featured in Living Stories, Best of Times, The Sour Collective, Two Wolves Digest, Short Stories Unlimited, Roi Fainéant plus many more. She loves finding interesting ways to challenge reader perception through unique scenarios. She embarks on her first residency in Ireland in 2025. @joanne_macias_writer

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